I’ve had some extra time to stitch these past few days as I have been home with the Covid. It only occurred to me in my newly infected state, how very corona-virus-esque the center of this work is. I drew it and began the stitching long before contracting the virus. Art as a form of fortune telling, I suppose.

This is my first bout of Covid and I admit that my symptoms, at least at first, were as much fear, shame and anxiety as they were physical aches and pains. All the news, statistics and community stories I’d absorbed over the past 2 years had coallesced into a dark vision, a hellish realm, a desolate land of Covid into which I had just been thrust. I honestly had to kinda talk myself off a Covid cliff, settle on a new way of seeing the thing inside me. Maybe stitching a vision of it was part of my coming to grips. There is something beautiful and quintessential about the form of corona viruses. And maybe there is something to respecting and admiring it as it passes through my body.